This story was written for the Sixth Round of the Seventh Season of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition. I'm writing as the Seeker for the Tutshill Tornados.

My task this round is as follows:

SEEKER: Star-Crossed Lovers. Write about a romance that's doomed to fail.

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the world J.K. Rowling has created. It's all hers, from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts to all the people living there.

Thanks to my team for betaing!

Deficient
Word Count: 1509

He glared at her across the Great Hall. Bright-eyed, bushy-haired, and a set of buck teeth that she would surely never grow into. Draco's carefully styled and maintained platinum blonde hair stuck exquisitely onto his scalp while hers was disastrously unkempt.

Honestly, did she even try?

Draco was unfortunately aware that Hermione Granger did try. She tried incredibly and irritatingly hard at seemingly everything she did. And she often succeeded. Top of their class in each and every way academically, but at the bottom of the social ladder, at least until she latched onto the Potter and Weasley boys during Halloween of their First Year, and who could say if that was anymore than the slightest climb.

The three were inseparable. Always causing trouble in the most obnoxious ways. Hermione did try when it came to her academics, but for a know-it-all try hard who preached the importance of rules, she didn't seem to have a problem breaking them when either boy asked her.

For reasons Draco could not understand, Viktor Krum had become infatuated with her. It was disgusting, repulsive, absolutely despicable.

"It's just wrong," Parkinson snapped, her fork dropping onto the table in an unladylike manner. She and the other Slytherins glared daggers at the pair at the end of the table where the Durmstrang students sat. "I've lost my appetite," she huffed dramatically, crossing her arms indignantly.

"Filthy Mudblood must have slipped him something," Theodore Nott spat from beside Draco who was beginning to tune them out.

Hermione's eyes lit up when Viktor leaned into her, his lips a hair's breadth from her ear as he whispered into it.

Her bushy hair had kept its unkempt qualities, although it was easily less intense after the Yule Ball. Her hair had a new shine to it. Her frizzy curls were a little looser, her thick eyebrows were a more elegant shape, and her frumpy and loose style was replaced with a more modern chic and tighter fitting clothes that only showed off the curves he once held in his hands.

Draco clenched his fists and stood abruptly from the table, his eyes trained on Hermione. In his haste, he knew he had made a scene. Her eyes snapped to his; however, whatever she might have said was never worded as Krum captured her attention once again. Nott put his hand on Draco's forearm, but he had already started his exit. Turning on his heel, he walked at a cool but brisk pace from the Great Hall, wishing he could ignore the stares and whispers that followed.

He was halfway to the dungeons when her faster, hurried steps caught up to him.

"Was that necessary?" Her sharp voice penetrated the quiet of the hallway, but he pressed on, refusing to even glance in her direction. His longer legs were hard for her to overcome, but the witch was as stubborn as they come. There were times he admired this quality of hers, and there were times he despised it.

"Malfoy!" she all but shouted now, only pissing him off more than actually getting him to answer her. "Malfoy, you're acting like a child. Stop pouting and talk to me."

Maybe he was, he thought. Throwing another temper tantrum in the most extravagant fashion he could.

Her angry footsteps were in step with his now. They walked beside one another, through winding corridors and up towering staircases. When her breathing began to turn into soft pants he slowed his pace, just enough for her to keep up, and more than enough for her to notice.

It was comfortable. It was infuriating.

Her fingertips brushed against the skin of his forearm and he spun to face her, pushing her through the door of an empty classroom. He barely recognized it as the Potions classroom before he pulled away from her.

They stood mere feet apart from each other, but to Draco it may as well have been miles. He could feel her eyes searching his face, while he did his best to avoid looking at her. Stubbornly ignoring her, or cowardly hiding from her, he could not decide.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed before he finally met her brown eyes but he could see her patience was wearing thin.

"Draco," she whispered and his resolve broke.

"Why do you do that?" He kept his voice suspiciously cool. The only sign of his breaking composure were clenched fists at his side, something he hoped Hermione wouldn't see but knowing she would.

"Why do I do what?" Hermione furrowed her brow.

He rolled his eyes. "For a witch as allegedly bright as you, you really are daft."

For a moment, rage bloomed onto her face before she pulled herself together. "Don't do that, Malfoy." The use of his surname was a slap in the face. "Don't push me away." She took a step towards him.

"You just sit there at my table, but practically in his lap like some common whore," he spat, letting venom he didn't feel lace into his words. "Surrounding yourself with celebrities and throwing yourself at not one, but two Triwizard Champions? That is almost impressive." Draco knew there was nothing going on between Hermione and Potter, regardless of Rita Skeeter's glorified gossip column. "Have you fucked Diggory, too?"

Hermione was in his face then. Her finger jabbing into his chest and nearly causing him to step back. The hurt in her eyes only encouraged him.

"Stop it," she said, her voice low and dangerous, but he wasn't finished yet.

"How does Weasley feel about you sleeping around with the object of his affections? He was drooling over Krum before you dug your talons into him." Draco towered over her, encroaching himself into her space so she was forced to tilt her head back and look up at him. "He's lusted after you since First Year, can't imagine that has been good for your Golden Trio."

"Malfoy," she warned, looking up at him.

He could always lose himself in her doe-like eyes. He knew they would be his undoing.

"Or do you have him on the side as well?" The words were like bile, but he needed to say them. He needed to hurt her like she did him.

"Draco, that's not how it is. You know why we had to stop -"

"Do I?" he shouted, losing his composure completely. "You didn't tell me anything, Hermione. You just left a one sentence note on the bed and disappeared. You didn't give me anything and then you start shagging Krum-"

"I'm not shag-sleeping with Viktor," Hermione interrupted, her tone irritated, as if he was slow.

"Well you like to flaunt it as if you do. In the Great Hall of all places. I didn't think you had it in you, Granger."

She flinched at the use of her surname. They never used them when they were alone. When they were together. It was an insult in itself. The sense of intimacy was ripped away and they were back in their first years. Hating each other based on childhood first impressions and intergenerationally ingrained prejudices.

She sighed. "I don't want to do this anymore."

He barked out a laugh. "You already made it clear we weren't doing anything anymore. You didn't even give me a chance to -"

"I did give you a chance! I have given you countless chances!" She thrust her arms out and he couldn't ignore the temptation to fall into her open arms. "We're on different sides, Draco," she lowered her voice. Her face tilted slightly and he wished to cup the soft skin in his hands.

He clenched his jaw until it felt sore from the pressure. Hermione searched his face, her eyes lingering on his frowning lips more than once. She reached her hand up slowly, her fingers ghosting on his jaw before pulling away.

"When You-Know-Who returns, you need to make a choice," she whispered. Her brown eyes met his and he nearly drowned in the sadness in them. "You need to pick a side."

She lingered for a few more moments before she pulled away, taking any warmth she could have provided with her.

Her proclamation weighed heavy on his chest and he barely managed to choke out the words before she made it to the door of the classroom. "I don't know if I can," he said. Her hand gripped the door knob and he realized she was slipping away for the last time. He wasn't ready for her to leave him, not again. Not like this. "I love you," he whispered to her back. "That's what I can offer you. I love you," he repeated, nearly pleading. His walls were open for her, they always were.

Hermione turned halfway before she stopped, only showing him her profile. "That's not enough." The door opened and she was gone, replaced by the flood of Second Year Hufflepuffs filling the classroom for their afternoon class with Professor Snape.

When he stormed out of the classroom, Hermione was gone.